The Treaty of Waitangi; or, how New Zealand became a British Colony

by Thomas Lindsay Buick

The scene chosen for the conference with the chiefs was the lawn in front of Mr. Busby's house,[53] which stands upon a gently sloping promontory directly opposite the old town of Kororareka. A large and commodious building, with its French casements, cedar doors, and old-fashioned fittings, it looks out across the Bay from the seclusion of its plantation of imported trees. Down between the house and the sea beach there runs a grassy slope, at the termination of which rises a grove of the beautiful Pohutukawa, which had just shed their blaze of Christmas bloom when Captain Hobson arrived.

To the right flow the tidal waters of the Waitangi River, whose falls four miles beyond its mouth have given their name to the district.[54] Upon the flat which fringes the river bank, the Maoris camped amongst the cabbage palms, and the smoke of their fires might have been seen curling upwards until it was lost in the mists of the morning air. Still farther to the right, and across the river, under the forest-clad hill, nestled the little Mission station of Paihia, where Mr. Colenso was industriously producing copies of the New Testament from his primitive printing-press. Away to the left, in Oihi Bay, stands the cross marking the spot where the first Christian sermon was preached to the Maoris by Samuel Marsden, on Christmas Day of 1814, and between these two points where they had first received the spoken and the written Word, the natives were now asked to decide a question that very largely involved their political salvation.

The morning of the auspicious day (Wednesday, February 5) broke with nature's approving smile upon it. The sun shining brightly in the Heavens lit up the blue waters of the Bay, the slopes of the brown hills, the shadows of the sombre forest in which the birds sang even more blithely than was their wont. Many of the natives had arrived during the previous day, and the face of the harbour was still alive with canoes speeding from all directions to the place of meeting, their crews keeping time with their paddles to the chant of the excited Kai tuki[55] as he stood upon the centre thwart, urging by word, song, and gesture, a more vigorous bending of broad backs and straining of tawny arms in the hope of outstripping his opponents in the race to Waitangi.

On shore a large marquee had been erected upon the grassy lawn in front of Mr. Busby's residence, towards which the bunting of the Herald had been liberally applied, the Union Jack waving gaily over the whole scene until the official proceedings were begun, when it was lowered as an indication that sovereignty had not yet been ceded to the Queen. The ships in the harbour had likewise marked the occasion by displaying all their bright flags and in the brilliant sunlight the scene was one of picturesque animation, not the least interesting feature being the blue-shirted settlers—British and American[56]—promenading on the lawn. As a counterpoise to these there were the groups of natives squatting on the ground, each tribe discussing with ample gesticulation and volubility the treaty from their own immediate point of view. "Beyond the grounds," writes Dr. Bright, "refreshment was vended to the Europeans and many a cork (adopting a poetic phrase) escaped its glassy confines, to let out, not a lake, but Dunbar's foaming stout, or Hodge's paler streams. Nor were more patrician fluids wanting; nor yet ardent cognac; nor the clear burning fluid of St. Giles' dames; nor the spirit of storms, rum, which sailors gulp, ingulphing a torrid zone within no temperate one—all waters of fire to the sober Maori, and which they might be taught are waters that the Devil navigates to reach the island of the soul. Nor was there wanting solid aliment—pork, salt and fresh, in various forms of hams, cold roast, pork pies, and baskets of bread and biscuit all to be transmuted into money. Troops of natives came from all directions to the korero with the rangatira nui, or great gentleman from England. You might inspect a group of brown skins and then a group of white skins, and with but little puzzling discern the same stage-stock of feelings common to both. The Europeans were very numerous but the natives were more so, many who came from a distance carrying guns. What, thought I, if these savages refuse to accede to the treaty, is to hinder them from driving us into the sea, or into their ovens? What greater proof of their sovereignty than their willingness to yield it up to us?"

At 9 o'clock the Lieutenant-Governor, accompanied by Captain Nias, landed at Waitangi, and they were shortly afterwards followed by the officers of the ship, Lieutenant Shortland and the members of the civil staff, and by the Missionaries who were resident in and about the Bay of Islands.

During this time Captain Hobson, Mr. Busby, and Mr. Henry Williams, were engaged in a final discussion upon the treaty and its translation. At 10.30 Bishop Pompallier, the newly-appointed Roman Catholic Bishop of Oceania, dressed in full canonicals[57] and accompanied by one of his priests[58] arrived from Kororareka, and without displaying any hesitation, walked straight to Mr. Busby's house, and entered the room in which the Lieutenant-Governor and his associates were in close conference. The Bishop's manner was so full of confident assurance that the two constables[59] standing on guard at the door were so completely taken by surprise that they failed to challenge the cleric's right to enter. The incident was equally startling in its dramatic suddenness to all the astonished onlookers, and it made a considerable impression upon the natives. In their eyes the pomp and circumstance implied by the ecclesiastical dress meant much, while the air of superior authority with which the proceeding had been carried out conveyed the suggestion to them that this man must indeed be a rangatira.[60]

A buzz of comment arose, the natives whispering amongst themselves, "Ko ia anote tino rangatira! Ko Pikopo[61] anake te hoa mo te Kawana." "This surely is the chief gentleman. The Bishop only is the companion for the Governor."

The importance of these comments were not lost upon the Church Missionaries, who were deferentially standing outside, and a hurried conference resulted in their deciding to be on equal terms with the Bishop. They accordingly moved towards the house, and had just reached the verandah when an announcement was made that the Lieutenant-Governor intended to hold a levee in order that all who had not already been introduced to him, and desired to have that privilege, might do so by entering at one door and passing out at another. While the introductions were proceeding Bishop Pompallier remained in the room, and as the Missionaries were unable to take their position with him owing to the crush in the narrow passage, they made a virtue of necessity and coldly declined to participate in the ceremony.

The levee over, and it was not a lengthy proceeding, Captain Nias and Mr. Busby, preceded by the representatives of the police, came out of the house followed by the Lieutenant-Governor, and in this order the procession was moving towards the tent when the Bishop and his associate stepped briskly forward and took their positions immediately behind Captain Hobson, thus giving the Protestant Missionaries no option but to follow in his wake. "Brethren," said Mr. Colenso, "this won't do. We must never consent to this position."

"No," replied the Rev. Richard Taylor, "I will never consent to follow Rome," and so saying he and his brethren quietly withdrew from the procession and made their way unofficially towards the marquee.